


Motorcycle

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-09
Updated: 2004-05-09
Packaged: 2018-12-26 20:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12065970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: A PWP set some time in season three.





	Motorcycle

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

I shift the Vette into 5th, smiling to myself as I feel the torque from the engine pull the car forward. God I love this car. It's so much more fun to drive than the Jeep. Not that I didn't have my share of fun in the Jeep. my share, plus most everyone else's too.

That time Justin blew me at a stop light while the middle aged straight guy looked in from his car window, shocked first, shifting in his seat second. 

That other time. (which other time. god were there that many?). Justin's hand sliding into my pants before we got home from Babylon, his fingers stroking me, then his head bending down, mouth desperate, his tongue wickedly flicking the head of my cock, trailing up the vein on the underside, his lips wrapping tightly around the head and sliding down the shaft, me trying to keep the fucking car out of the ditch. I managed to screech to a halt in front of the loft before I came. barely. It's amazing that I haven't crashed when you consider the number of distracting things I've done while driving.

Hmmmm. My pants tighten at the thought, but I focus on what's in front of me right now. The traffic on the highway is pretty light, but this hot bike keeps weaving in and out of the cars around me. The rider is dressed head to toe in black leather, heavy boots nestled in tight against the sleek body of the bike, full black helmet obscuring his face and head. He looks like a storm trooper or something, but the sexiest fucking storm trooper I ever saw. His lean body is bent low on the bike, pressed almost horizontal against the chassis. His ass isn't exactly raised in the air, but it's definitely in view and I like what I see. I can imagine it lifting a bit, clearing the space above the seat, his face pressed into the instrument panel, his hands gripping the handlebars.

I clear my throat, pay attention to pulling around the guy in front of me, the guy between me and the bike. I prowl up close behind the bike. Not too close, don't want to spook him and risk a nasty smear on the pavement. I want him willing AND able. 

He's in the left lane, riding hard but safe. just the way I like it. 

I pull into the right lane, pacing myself beside him. He looks over, a slight turn of his head. Given the height of the bike and the low slung seats of the Vette, I know he's getting a full view of me through my window. I turn to look at him, but can't see anything through his visor. He keeps his head slightly angled towards me, so I know he's still watching me, but keeping one eye on the road. Fuck, I'd keep more than one eye on the road if I was perched on a tangle of metal surrounding a flammable gas tank at 75mph, but then again, it's me he's looking at. 

I open my mouth into a small smile, look straight ahead, know he's watching me. I look over, see the leather hugging his torso, his arms, stretching tight across his thighs. The helmet is frustrating since I can't see the look on his face, see his mouth, his eyes. But I can sense the interest in his body, the angle of his muscles. I can imagine his cock pressing hard against the leather on his thigh, the vibration of the engine below him. 

Mmmm. Time to pick it up a bit. He's still glancing between me and the road in front of him, unable to stop looking my way. I'm holding the bottom of the wheel with one hand, the other black gloved hand resting on my thigh. I turn my head towards him slightly, shift my hand on my leg so it's moving closer to my crotch. My cock is hard, pushing down the right leg of my pants. I shift to give it a little more room, bring my thumb around the outside of it, my fingers cupping the inside. I press the fabric down a bit, outlining the obvious a little more clearly. He's looking forward when I start, glances over. then glances back fast. I can almost see the look on his face behind the mask of his visor. First surprise. then desire. instantly paying full attention. 

I look forward again, run my thumb down the length of my dick, pressing slightly harder just before the head. My hips jerk slightly, my back presses harder into the seat. I close my eyes for the briefest of seconds, run my tongue over my lips. I know I've got him, totally got him.

.until he accelerates forward, pulls away so that he's well ahead of me in a flash. Little fucker. Two can play at this game. I push down on the gas, surging the car forward to close the gap between us. He wants me behind him, I can arrange that.

I see him pull into the right lane, just ahead of an off-ramp. Decision time. He brakes to move into the exit lane, his chest raising up slightly from the frame of the bike. I pull in behind him, following closely. He's still slowing down, so I ease off a bit, gear down, give him some room. The ramp is a long, wide arc onto a single-lane road, no traffic signal between the highway and the road. I debate whether he's going to go straight or turn just as he accelerates again, pushing his body down tight to the bike, leaning into the curve of the road. I swear he lifts his ass above the seat, a clear invitation. 

Fuck me, I can hug the road in this car just as well as that bike can. And I know an offer when I see one. I scream through the curve, the Vette gripping the road like a fist in a glove. That won't be the only thing gripping tight by the time I catch him.

I've lost sight of him for a minute, but the road is pretty empty so I know he's still ahead of me. Not many choices for where to go apart from this one road. I push the car forward, letting the speed pull my body tight into the seat, forcing the muscles in my arms to tense slightly as my hands hold the wheel. I see him up ahead, slowing down to pull onto a small road. I follow, dust trailing behind me as I turn onto the dirt road. We keep going, until I see him brake and pull into a laneway. I consider my options briefly, but know I'm going to follow. Why the fuck wouldn't I? That ass is mine.

I slow down to pull into the laneway, and see a free-standing garage ahead of me. The bike is parked in front, and the rider is standing with his back to me. He bends down, reaching for the bottom of the old metal garage door to open it. My car crawls slowly up the lane. I watch the leather pull across his ass and thighs as he bends. Hmmm. This is going to be fun. He straightens up, goes back to the bike and mounts it to drive it into the shed. As his leg swings over the side, he turns his head to look back at me, a silent acknowledgement of welcome.

I bring the car up in front of the garage, stopping a few feet away. I can see the open garage door but the light is too dim to make out much inside. The shed is old, the windows are covered with years of dirt and dust, effectively blocking out the daylight. I open the door of the Vette, slowly pulling myself out into the afternoon air. The temperature is crisp, the leaves crunch under my feet as I walk towards the garage. I feel the stretch in my legs as I walk, slowly circling my neck to ease out the kinks. Not that I don't like kink. 

I run my tongue over my lips as I cross the threshold to the building. I still can't see much, but my eyes slowly begin to make out the shape of a work bench, some garden tools on the walls. I see the bike, resting on some sort of metal frame that holds it in place, kind of like the clamps they put on your wheels if you've parked illegally for too long. It looks pretty sturdy, and I guess keeps the bike from being stolen in this flimsy shed. 

The rider is standing beside the bike, facing me. He isn't moving, and hasn't removed his helmet. He's not tall, but most guys aren't as tall as me. I pause a few feet from him, watching now to see what he'll do. He stands still, leather-clad hands resting at his sides. He's not nervous, but his body is coiled with the intensity of expectation. My mouth twists into a half-smile as I move towards him, stopping when my body is inches from his. I don't want to see anything other than his cock right now. I know what I can do to him, and he's going to know it in a minute. 

Before he can move, I drop to my knees and reach for the zipper on his pants. I can see his hard cock outlined by the tight leather, know he's dying for me to release it. I press one hand into his dick as I pull the zipper down with the other. His body buckles a little, his knees bending from the sensation. I pull his cock out and reach around to pull him towards me as my mouth grazes the tip of his cock. I hear him hiss, muffled by the helmet. I breathe against his skin, the moist air from my mouth trailing around the head of his cock, running down the sides. He fights to stand still, waiting for me to move. I rub the tip of my nose across the inverted "v" where the head meets the shaft on the underside of his cock, and his knees buckle again. I repeat the motion, turning my head so the stubble on my cheek brushes the delicate skin gently. He gasps, bringing his hands to the back of my head. I pull back a little, running the tip of my finger around the flared head of his cock, rubbing gently down the vein. He groans and now I just want to keep doing things to make these noises pour forth from his lips. Although the clean, musky scent of his cock is making me want to devour it. 

His cock is beautiful. Taught, hard flesh barely contained by the translucent skin, pearly drops of pre-come bubbling from the tip. I lean forward and lick one drop away, barely touching him with my tongue. He feels the cool air that replaces the wetness of my tongue more than anything else, and I feel the small shiver that travels the length of his body. God, I want to fuck the shit out of him, but I'm going to make him want it so bad he won't remember his own name. I love it when he's incoherent with desire.

I dip my head down to the bottom of his zipper, reaching my tongue out to press against the vein at the base of his cock. I drag my tongue slowly up his cock, pressing the tip into the hard skin as I go. When I get to the top I pause, my mouth open, hot breath washing over his twitching dick. 

Waiting. waiting. my mouth hovering over his dick so that he can feel the hot moist air from my mouth, but not quite taking him into me yet. He groans again, pushing his hips forward so I'll take him in my mouth. I pull back a little, staying just out of reach. His hands press into my hair, urging me forward. "Fuck, Brian, you're killing me." he groans, waiting for me to swallow him. 

I move my head slowly, opening my mouth wide enough that he won't feel it until I'm where I want to be. I pull his cock into my mouth until the tip is going to hit my throat, then close my wet lips around the shaft, sliding further down to the base. The head taps the back of my throat, and I open wide enough to swallow him fully. 

"aaaah. Jesus fucking god." he groans as his knees bend and his hands grip my head. I drag my lips up the shaft of his cock, pressing as tight as I can without touching him with my teeth, then swallow him down again in one rapid motion. 

Two times and he's huffing. Five and he's gasping, his knees dangerously close to giving out.

On the tenth stroke I pull off, supporting him with my hands so he doesn't fall over. His cock glistens in front of me, the head an angry shade of red. I grasp it with my hand, still covered in my soft leather glove. Fuck, the contrast of his skin and the leather is hot, makes me want to fuck him with a leather dildo so I can watch it slide in and out of him.

I shake my head, standing up as my hand continues to pump his cock. His head is back, his hand gripping the workbench behind him for support. Enough with the fucking helmet, I need to get at his mouth. 

I reach under his chin and unbuckle the strap, pushing the chin guard up away from his face. One hand still on his cock, I push the helmet up enough so I can see his skin, running my tongue up his neck and over the rough skin of his jawline. His head is still back, but then he brings it forward to meet mine and roughly shoves the helmet up so it falls behind him, clattering on the workbench. 

His lips are hungry, tackling mine the moment they are free. His tongue pushes inside my mouth, frantically searching for mine. When I push back against him with my tongue, he takes it into his mouth, sucking on it like a dick. I groan, my knee shoving his legs apart, my thigh pressing into his crotch. Fuck, nobody kisses like my baby. My hands claw the workbench behind him, scrambling to pull my body closer to his, grinding him into the table as my mouth devours him. I want to eat him whole, taste every fucking part of him but it will have to come later, I can't wait. 

I pull back, roughly yanking him forward with me. I look around, deciding quickly as I push him towards the bike, leaning him over the seat. I grab a condom and lube from my pocket as he struggles to push the tight leather over his ass. I pause, watching the dark fabric peel away from his pale skin, my mouth aching to taste him. He doesn't even look over his shoulder, just pushes his bare ass back towards me, his hands reaching out to brace him against the bike. I hope these fucking clamps are strong, cause I'm not in the mood to be slow or gentle. 

I run my fingers over his ass, reveling in the feel of the smooth skin. I pop the lid on the lube, squeezing a generous blob at the top of his crack. It slowly starts to slide down his crack as he moans. My fingers reach out to guide it to where I want it, softly stroking his crack, pressing closer to his hole. He pushes his hips back towards me further, looking over his shoulder.

"do it, Brian." he huffs. 

I smile at him, my eyes meeting his. "oh I will baby, I will." 

He looks so fucking beautiful, his face flushed, his hair sticking to his forehead from being under the helmet, his eyes a deeper blue than usual. I'm taken aback. again. at how his body communicates so much to me. 

Like mine to him, I guess. I've never been all that good with words, but he hears what I say with my hands, my lips, my eyes, my cock. Thank god he hears me. It's just all so clear to me when I use my body to tell him what I need, what I want, what I feel. The words feel so artificial, so stilted coming from my lips. Words can lie. Words mean nothing. I should know. So I don't say them. I know it isn't easy for him to hear me sometimes, but I know he gets it. 

He gets that my fingertips will trace soft spiraling circles on his back when I feel affectionate, lov. well, gentle, but press small bruises into his hips when I need to own him, to mark him as mine. .. 

He gets that my lips will flutter against his eyelids when I'm sleepy after I come, but attack his mouth when I need to forget.

He gets that my arms will wrap around him to protect him when I need to, but block him from touching me when I'm angry.

He gets that my eyes will tell him everything he needs to know, as long as he's looking.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts by his voice. "Brian?" he whispers quietly. See, he even realizes I've gone from out of control to thoughtful in the space of a few seconds. 

His breathing is still ragged, and there are bright circles of colour on his cheeks and his neck. He hasn't been distracted by my thoughts. Plus my fingers have still been stroking his crack gently while I've been lost in my head, which is NOT where I want to be right now.

I increase the pressure of my fingers, circling one around the outside of his hole. He groans in his throat, drops his head back down towards the bike. I push through slowly, his muscles contracting around my finger. I pull back out, then push through again. His breath hitches in his throat as I add a second finger, then a third. 

"jesus, Brian, do it already." he gasps. 

I smile (I seem to be smiling a lot these days.), stroking my cock with my other hand to spread the lube over the condom and position myself. His hole is stretched now, his hips bucking softly against the bike to give his cock some friction. 

"ready baby?" I say as my cock bumps against his hole, sliding in faster than I expected. Oh shit. He's so tight, even after my fingers. My cock knows it's own rhythm now, forces my hips to move without my bidding. 

I pick up speed, adjusting my stance so I can balance my weight and hold his hips. He's gripping the frame of the bike on the far side, his body almost limp on the bike. He can't really support his weight on his feet like this, so he can't get enough leverage to push back much. He's trying to use his arms to push back against me, but I use my hands to pull him so he doesn't have to strain. Plus I can control the speed and the angle this way.

I push in hard, forcing the breath out of him as I go. He makes a keening sound, and I know I've hit the right spot. I repeat the motion, driving my cock into his prostate again. He grasps the bike for dear life, and I push, push, push against him, barely giving him room to breathe between waves of pleasure. 

"oh god, Brian. oh god. please. pl. oh.bbbri.ahh." his hips are moving as much as he can make them, rubbing his cock against the cold metal beneath him. 

I close my eyes, listening to the gasps and moans coming from my lover. God, I love making him lose it. It makes my expert control worth it. Sometimes I do it just to impress them, or to prove a point, but with him I just want to make him scream his fucking head off. I want to hear him moan my name, I want to see his face completely lost in the bliss crashing through his body. 

I don't like that I can't see his face in this position, but we're too far gone to switch now. I'm barely holding on, hanging us both on the edge as long as I can. My balls are lifting, pulling in as my orgasm races up. I have to hold on. he has to come. fuck. Justin. 

"come, baby. come. for. me." I whisper harshly as I bump his prostate mercilessly. 

That's all he needed, and the moans are wrenched from deep in his body as his orgasm sears through him. Mine is almost instantaneous, and I throw my head back in a soul shaking roar as I come. 

I stay deep inside him until our hearts begin to slow down, our breathing levels to a non life-threatening pace. I pull out slowly, stripping the condom off and dropping it in the garbage under the workbench. 

Justin gingerly pulls off the bike, grimacing as his skin peels away from the metal. 

"Guess I'll have to clean this up before I give it back to Andrew" he smiles as we both look at the come running down the side of the tank. 

"He'd probably appreciate that. It was pretty good of him to lend you the bike and the leathers for the weekend" I respond. "And I definitely want you to borrow them again soon."

"You like me in leather, huh?" he asks with a smirk. "Tight leather pants. perched on top of all this horsepower. pressing my body into the engine." His fingers trail down the center of my chest, rubbing small circles above my pubes. 

"When the fuck did you learn to drive a bike, anyway?" I ask, pulling my pants up.

"Oh, I got my motorcycle licence before I got my car licence. I guess the sex appeal always intrigued me. Plus I figured I could probably afford a motorcycle before I could afford a car, assuming my parents weren't going to buy me one" he smiled, wiping down the bike. "I guess I should have known I was gay, wanting this throbbing machine between my legs."

"Mmmm. I've got a throbbing machine I can put between your legs. Once we get home." I take his hand and pull him towards the car outside, my fingertips tracing soft spiraling circles on his back as we walked.


End file.
